Title: Fire And Ice

Summary: They repel like magnets; he's the mysterious boy, living the perfect life in LA, she's the determined girl, struggling as a journalist. Their worlds clash, one hiding, one digging. Fire and ice were never meant to be together, were they?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

CHAPTER TEN

Gabriella's fingered hovered over the worn down keys of her keyboard, but she felt like there was an invisible block between her tired fingers and the familiar letters. She was unbelievably frustrated. She'd put this off for days. She'd cleaned the living room already, making sure that everything was neat and tidy before she finally sat herself down on the couch. She was wearing her favorite pair of sweats, and her hair was tied back and out of her face in a messy bun, a steaming cup of tea sitting beside her on the couch, and the floor and coffeetable in front of her stacked with cutouts of Troy articles from recent newspapers. Her binder was open on her left, copies of each and every one of the articles she'd written carefully squeezed inside it bursting cover. She was prepared to write this article, one of the most important ones that Mr. Lancaster had assigned her, and Gordon had said that if she wrote it well it might even go on the front page of Entertainment, excerpts on the front page. She sighed. This was the chance she'd been waiting for her entire life, but all of a sudden her mind was fuzzy, and she couldn't get a single word out, something that hadn't happened to her, ever. Her mind swirled with the image of that blue sweatshirt, and dark flashes of that poor girl's tear-streaked face in the silvery moonlight. Her ears rang with the girl's horrified whimpers, and Gabriella felt overwhelmed by disgust and guilt. She'd long ago locked up that memory in the deep recesses of her brain, drowning herself in studying, but now it had escaped and was flying freely in her mind.

After almost five hours of frustrated staring at that maddeningly blank Word document, Gabriella slammed her laptop shut, tears in her eyes. She was a writer, not just some paparazzi dishing on the latest gossip. She took her work incredibly seriously, and she could only write about, defend, someone she believed was worth defending. The Troy that she thought she'd known was worth defending. The way he was close to his parents, the way he was caring and sweet, the way he could read people, the way he was devoted to his career and to his friends, the way he was funny and nice and warm under his cold exterior… That was all worth it. It was worth the cramped fingers, the bloodshot eyes, and the sleepless nights. He was worth it. But now, she realized, that everything she'd known was unreal, possibly another layer hiding whom he really was deep down. Was everything just a cover for him? First there was that hard, icy shell, then the kind, caring layer wrapping up his true self. Who was the real Troy Bolton? Gabriella realized that she would never know, and she probably did not even want to know.

Gabriella stood up, stretched, and glanced at the clock. It was just past 2 am, and Gabriella knew that there was no way she would be able to fall asleep now. She slipped on her flipflops and a jean jacket over, stuffing her binder and laptop into her bag. Maybe while on a walk through the park would help inspiration strike. She walked quietly through the empty streets, heading to the park that she often went to for runs and cut through on her way to work. She took in the familiar landscape, the trees that had turned golden and were already half bare. After almost two months in LA, Gabriella still couldn't get over the beauty she found in this modern city. Suddenly, she heard a loud crackle behind her, breaking the silence, and she whirled around. She spotted a familiar figure in the glow of the streetlamp, and she inhaled sharply as she clutched her jacket closer to her and her eyes narrowed. Blue eyes met hers, and she realized he looked just as surprised to see her as she probably did. She mashed her lips together, waiting for him to speak first.

"Gabriella," Troy said quietly, his eyes downcast, his voice smooth and even. "How…" he trailed off, obviously posing this as a question.

"How, what, Troy?" Gabriella snapped. She was angry, unbelievably angry.

"How did you know?" He whispered. She tried to read him, but he was closed off, his walls up all around him. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, and he seemed shrunken and small in his sweatshirt. Gabriella all her feelings of sympathy and concern away, reminding herself that Troy had raped someone. Raped.

"Does it matter?" Gabriella raised her eyebrows and Troy looked up. "You know what you did, I know what you did, and it disgusts me," Gabriella broke away from his gaze.

"I guess the whole world will know, too," Troy said bitterly.

"What do you mean," Gabriella demanded, confused. Troy stared at her, his eyes icy and cold, and Gabriella wanted to flinch back from the betrayal and accusation in them.

"I know what you did, too, Gabriella," Troy shot, his words like daggers. "Don't pretend you're so innocent. I know you wrote all of those articles in the newspapers. Don't even try to deny it. I know. Ever since the first day, I knew you were judgmental. I thought later on that I'd been wrong, but obviously my first instinct was right. I was right about you—you're judgmental, fake, and you only care about your work."

"What are you—" Gabriella suddenly gasped sharply, her eyes narrowing as anger ran through her veins. She glared at him, his face lit under the moonlight, unlike that night all those years ago. "You think I wrote those articles? You honestly think that? How can you think that? I thought we were friends, Troy. Why in the world would I write those horrible articles, huh, Troy? I cared about you! I was always there for you, all those hours we spent together running errands and talking… You honestly think I was faking it?" Gabriella's voice rose as her eyes filled with furious tears.

"Beats me, Gabriella. You're the journalist, I'll leave the snooping around to you," Troy shot back, each word like shards of ice.

Gabriella threw up her hands and she stepped closer to Troy. "I cannot believe you," she hissed. "You are such a hypocrite. You think that I am judgmental? Seriously? Well newsflash Troy—you're wrong. You're wrong about everything. The binder I kept about you was for personal reference, yeah. I wrote articles about you. Yes, they appear in the newspaper. But guess what? I'm the one defending you, Troy. Yes! Oh, my God!" Gabriella screeched, her voice piercing the silent night. 'Ever since that first article came up about you breaking down and throwing ice cream, I've been there to help you. I have always been here for you, Troy. But you know what else? And yes, there is more. I'm done. I'm not going to do this for you any more, Troy. I am not going to write about you ever again. Are you happy now? Does this make you feel any better? I can't write about someone that I don't trust. I can't defend someone that I don't find worth even defending. I can't lie to the world and tell everyone how amazing you are, Troy, when I don't even believe it myself. Even in the beginning, I never hated you. I thought you were an asshole and a player, yes, but I guess I always believed there was more to you than that. Well, surprise, surprise, Troy Bolton is a rapist." Gabriella seethed, spitting out her words. "But I would never do that to anyone, Troy. I would never write about that just to spite you. And lucky for you, I'm through anyways. I'll leave the Times. I'll go find a job somewhere else, where you'll never have to have an article written by me, ever again." Gabriella took a deep breath, the tears already threatening to spill out of the corners of her eyes. She turned on her heel, ready to leave, once and for all.

Troy caught her arm, his eyes wide, his mouth opened to say something. But no words came. Gabriella looked him in the eye for those two minutes in which she waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn't. Fiery brown met icy blue, and she turned away, disgusted. She reached into her bag and pulled out her binder, the TROY written on top of it smudged and faded.

"Here," she stuffed the overflowing binder into his arms, pushing his hand off her elbow. "Take it. I don't want any of it. Goodbye, Troy." Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her voice was steady. Without looking at him again, she turned around and walked away, leaving Troy standing in the deserted park, alone.

For the rest of the week, Troy was holed up in his apartment, again. But this time, his brain was active and he was mentally hitting himself for being so blind and stupid. After Gabriella had yelled at him, which was on Wednesday morning, he'd come home and opened the binder. He didn't want to believe what she'd said, he didn't want to believe that he'd been so wrong, so far from the truth, but everything rang true. With shaking fingers he'd opened the worn out binders, and he was faced with page after page of her small, neat handwriting. He read each carefully printed word with great attention, his own life story being told back to him in her gentle, beautiful language. He spent almost 12 hours straight reading and rereading her notes, before moving on to the articles that she'd written. In his hands he held a surprisingly thick stack, and as he devoured each sentence that she'd written his eyes got wetter and a bitter feeling lodged itself in his heart. He wanted to puke, because her words were so touching and beautiful, because what she'd written was so untrue, judging by the way he'd treated her.

Gabriella. Beautiful, kind, smart Gabriella. Was it possible to go from hating someone to loving them within 24 hours? But he knew it was true: he loved her. The way her eyebrows knit together that first time they'd met and she couldn't read him. The way her smile lit up the entire room. The way her voice seemed like silk, her words articulate and precise. The way her personality was so fiery, never a moment with her boring or dull. The way her hand felt against his forehead, he remembered now, when she'd nursed him that first time she'd gone to his house. The way she laughed at his lame jokes, like the sound of tinkling bells at Christmas. The way she had looked so beautiful when she'd gone out on that first date with the bartender, but had looked even more breathtaking with her hair rolling about her shoulders and her petite body covered in shorts and a t-shirt. The way her hair curled and glowed a dark, chestnut brown. The way she looked at you, like she could see right through you and into your deepest, darkest secrets. The way she was so serious about her work. The way she fidgeted constantly, with her clothes, with anything within reach. The way her eyes glowed, like embers from the warmest fire on the coldest winter day.

Troy stood up. He was determined to find Gabriella, to tell her that he loved her, and to apologize. He needed to start telling everyone the truth, including Chad and Gabriella. But by Sunday night, he'd failed. He'd searched everywhere for them, but he never seemed to bump into either Chad or Gabriella. They were both busier than ever, and he felt himself growing more and more impatient. He'd already contacted Coach Andersen about going back to practice on Monday, so Chad was settled. But he had yet to see Gabriella. Sunday night, he decided to finally go to Sharpay's and just wait for her.

That same night, Gabriella got ready for her date with Matt. She'd spent the day out with Sharpay and Taylor, preparing herself. Her hair was blown out, her makeup done, and she was wearing a new, flowing white dress that barely reached her thighs and dipped down low in front. Sharpay had picked it out for her and forced it out her, stating, "It is perfect. It shows off your boobs and your legs. Wear it or I will kick you out." An hour before Matt was due to arrive, Gabriella sat at the desk in her room, a pen hovering above a blank piece of paper. She was all ready to go, but she felt like she had to take care of something first. One last thing, and then she would get final closure and be able to move on from the mess that was her life. Soon, she'd be able to start fresh… Gabriella took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Goodbye, New York Times, she said quietly as she released her childhood dream.

Dear Mr. Lancaster,

Thank you for everything that you have done for me, but I am sorry to tell you that I cannot continue to write and support Mr. Bolton any longer…

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Gabriella clutched her finished note and brought it out into the hall.

"Gabriella, Matt's here!" she heard Sharpay call. Gabriella smiled, quickly putting the letter on the kitchen counter and running around, trying to find her purse. When she finally located it, she rushed out the door, kissing Sharpay on the cheek as she appeared at the door. Matt looked unbelievably handsome in a black tuxedo, his hair carefully slicked back, and a bouquet of fresh roses in his hand. Gabriella smiled as he wrapped his arm around her waist and gave her a deep, movie-style kiss.

"Ugh, I'm going to barf all over you guys," Sharpay muttered. She still disliked Matt and his showy, touch-feely ways, but she suppressed her opinions for the sake of her friend. "Don't be back too late," she called out as Gabriella laughed and the two of them waved at her as they drove off in Matt's Porsche. Sharpay suddenly realized that he seemed extremely rich and able to afford fancy places and cars and clothes for a bartender… She shrugged the thought off, and went to help Zeke bake a cake in the kitchen.

Less than a minute later, the doorbell rang and Sharpay groaned. "Probably Gabs. She must've forgotten her phone or something," Sharpay grumbled as she opened the door. Instead, she was greeted by a familiar basketball player.

"Gabriella?" Troy panted, having run all the way from his apartment.

Sharpay sighed. "Missed her by 30 seconds. She's on a date with Matt. It's their 2-month anniversary."

Troy groaned. "Dammit," he muttered.

Sharpay looked at him sympathetically. "Haven't we done this before?" she asked, remembering the time he'd come for Gabriella.

"Yeah," Troy smiled weakly. "I'm here for a different reason though," he sighed, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.

"Right," Sharpay nodded, leading him through the house and to the kitchen. "You love her."

"So, do I get to know where we're going, Mr. Romantic?" Gabriella giggled, thirty minutes later, resting her head on Matt's shoulders. Matt laughed.

"Now where would the romance be in that?" Matt rubbed circles on Gabriella's bare thigh, making her sigh in both pleasure and exasperation. They'd had the talk already, Gabriella took sex extremely seriously. Since then, he'd lightened up a little, but still he kept on throwing hints at her. However, Gabriella decided to ignore that. Suddenly, he screeched to a stop, and Gabriella glanced out the window. It was a stretch of deserted beach, and as the sun set on the horizon, everything was basked in a golden-pink light. Gabriella gasped, her heart fluttering.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. The ocean sparkled like millions of diamonds, the sand glowed, the sky was a rainbow of warm colors, and she spotted a picnic basket on the sand. "Beautiful."

"Happy anniversary, Gabriella," Matt smiled, opening the door for her and leading her onto the sand. She slipped off her high heels as he took off his own shoes and they walked barefoot on the warm sand, his arm holding her tightly to his side. Gabriella smiled, a giddy feeling inside her.

"Happy anniversary, Matt," she laughed. "God, that makes me feel so old."

Matt chuckled. "You are old," he said as the sat together on the picnic blanket. "Tell me something, old lady, that you've never told anyone else." Matt whispered into her ear as they watched the setting sun. He kissed her neck, right behind her ear, and Gabriella moaned quietly.

"Wait," she managed to choke out. She grabbed the bottle of wine sitting beside her and put it in his lap. "Eat, first." She smiled, expertly disentangling herself from him. "What's on the menu?"

Matt looked slightly disappointed, but he shook it off with a grin. "Everything, love. Everything."

Before Gabriella knew it, they'd finished the entire picnic basket, which included salad, soup, her favorite pasta and his favorite steak, fruit, dessert, and the entire bottle of wine. Gabriella's head spun slightly from all the wine and the food, and she felt like she was going to burst with content. They'd spent the night like they always did, talking and laughing, and Gabriella was happy. They were lying together on the blanket, his arm around her shoulders, their hands interlaced as they gazed at the stars together.

"Tell me a secret," Matt murmured, turning over and hugging her to him, his hands roaming all over her body.

Gabriella sighed with pleasure. "What kind of secret?" she asked, her head foggy.

"Any kind," Matt whispered, his breath hot against Gabriella's neck, leaving goosebumps along her skin.

"I'm going to quite my job at the LA Times," Gabriella said thoughtfully. "Can't write about Troy anymore. Your turn," she closed her eyes as his hands slid up her thigh.

"I love you," he murmured, suddenly on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

"Uh, you too," Gabriella was hardly aware of what she was saying. All she could feel was the burning sensation inside her as Matt started to unbutton her dress. Somewhere deep down she knew something wrong was happening, but the wine was messing with her head.

"I wrote articles about Troy, too," he smiled, and Gabriella saw a strange glint in his eyes.

"Huh?" Gabriella tried to lift her head, but Matt leaned down and kissed her, pushing her back down into the sand. His body was completely against hers, and she could feel him pressing down against her stomach.

"Your turn," Matt whispered, he slipped the straps of Gabriella's dress down, past her shoulders. Gabriella's eyes shot open, and she started to struggle.

"I don't want to do this," Gabriella said, too loudly, trying to gain control of herself. "Stop, Matt. Stop." She panted, but it was too late. He'd somehow managed to get her straps all the way down, exposing her to the world. "Stop," she cried weakly as he suddenly pinned her arms above her head with incredible strength.

"You want to know my secret, Gabriella?" Matt whispered roughly, his breathing uneven. "I'm tired of waiting." He shoved her dress up so it was bunched around her midsection. Gabriella tried to cry out, but he silenced her by pressing down even harder on her wrists. He reached over, grabbed a napkin, and gagged her. "Sorry babe," he smiled. With one hand, he undid his belt and slipped his pants down, at the same time hooking a finger under the waist of her panties and quickly sliding them down. He leaned in close to her, his green eyes burning into hers. Gabriella tried to struggle, but it was no use. He pinned her down, and she couldn't move.

"Last secret Gabriella: I'm going to fuck you now."

A/N: Hey guys! I'm really sorry about the late update, I've been pretty busy lately. Sorry about that! But I hope you guys liked this chapter… Or at least find it interesting enough. Comments? Questions? I personally think that this chapter was pretty dark and it was extremely depressing to write. So, Matt is a bad guy after all. And Troy finally realizes that he loves her. What do you think Gabriella will do? And I didn't really mention it in this chapter, but things with Chad, Sharpay, Zeke, and Taylor are about to get pretty complicated…. So if you haven't checked out my profile and voted you please do so! Your votes affect the final outcome of this story!

Anyways, I'm sorry if I don't make any sense, it's past midnight here and I'm exhausted. Please, please, please, tell me what you guys think! Thank you so much to the people who have reviewed, especially those of you who have been here since the beginning. All of your reviews make me smile and make staying up all night worth it. Thank you for your feedback! So remember to leave your comments! I really hope you guys liked this one. I'll be updating soon!

Lots of love,

Lexi